The Great Indian Dream comes to an End.

This is pretty expected as never. Some 100 hours down the lane,and here I am ,seven seas away from my motherland. Countless hours over dirty,used tables in cafetariae, consuming zillion cups of Irani chai, laughing over pointless conversations. Sharp wind slaps me hard on my neck , leaving me helpless as I try hard to turn back, to steal a look of my pals going on with their usual 'nicotine fixation' , with my presence being filled with void. It leave me perturbed , though. What does it take to make this tiny state of mortality meaningful? Or else , to be called 'immortal' forever till mortality exists in this planet. Stepping in a foreign courtyard and working your knees off?? When people run away in need of their beloved ones to find some coupling for their empty palms to be filled with warmth when gusty winds take their toll,otherwise would be occupied with a stick of tobacco.

Ambiguity surrounds me all over and in the mean while,The Great Indian Dream comes to an End

!